


(If you're ever tired of fighting) Call me

by stardustachilles



Series: Acosmist (one who believes nothing exists) [11]
Category: Dysprosium
Genre: Alex is 26, F/F, M/M, Sara is 19, Sara makes a new friend, and she's super kind, because she has to ride the bus, like a really good person, pride parades (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10043951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustachilles/pseuds/stardustachilles
Summary: Sara meets a boy named Sebastian.





	

Sara didn’t hate taking the bus. Really; she didn’t. She just put in her headphones and pulled out her reading for whatever class she had the most homework in (or which teacher she found most terrifying) and minded her own business. She highlighted what she had to take notes on later and reread sections and chewed on her headphone strings. Which was exactly what she was doing this evening, the light from the setting sun illuminating the page of her Biology 101 textbook.

Sara’s music faded out and her phone beeped with Alex’s specific ringtone. Sara was disinclined to answer, particularly because she was deeply invested in her studies at the moment, but she knew Alex would start to worry if she took too long to answer. Something about Sara being kidnapped, burly men in dark suits with guns and chloroform. Alex at eight and burlap sacks and metal chairs with rope. Sara didn’t know everything, but she trusted Alex to keep her safe and make sure she was when Alex wasn’t around.

The text was asking where she was, when she would be home, and if she was all right. Sara smiled, replied that she was a little left from hunger, and that her stop was in ten minutes. Alex sent a burger emoji and Sara sent a thumbs up. The bus stopped. Some people clambered off, more got on. Or, more precisely, rainbow flags and drag queens and crop tops boarded.

Sara remembered suddenly and somewhat abruptly that Pride had been today. Sara had wanted to go and coerce Alex into going, and possibly meet Hayden and her friends there, but her sister had called from her school asking if Sara could help her change rooms; Harley’s roommate at her all-girls private school had been a slob, so she had requested to room with Alex’s younger sister, Lane, a couple weeks ago, and it was finally approved. Alex and Lane had met up with their parents in the city, and Sara had made the trek out to the relative-countryside to carry boxes of Harley’s things around all day.

Sara tried not to stare as a man in ridiculously tall heels, dramatic makeup, and glittery wings walked past. Another guy in fishnets and an orange-and-pink tie-dye crop top followed him. A group of giggling girls in bandannas and body paint came next, and another brunet boy, rainbow flags painted on his cheeks, sitting near the front and staring out the window, probably at some friends he had just parted ways with. Sara looked back down at her textbook and looked up again, gaze lingering around the bus. She flicked her eyes back down to her book. Practical uses of isotopes. Fractional abundances. Proton, neutron, electron. Sara wasn’t going to get any more work done today.

Sara sighed and packed up her things, rolling her tongue around the headphone cord still in her mouth. Her newly-recovered makeup bag crinkled as she shoved her textbook in beside it. It had been in Harley’s possession for an indeterminate amount of time. Sara could vaguely remember lending it to Harley a while ago to carry makeup for a play she was in. Brightly colored face paints, press-on jewels and heavy duty makeup remover.

Sara’s phone buzzed again, and her song coming through her headphones changed. Hayden had texted her this time, a _ we missed you at pride  _ with a rainbow of heart emojis. Hayden had already been blowing up her Snapchat all day, and now an incoming flurry of pictures of Hayden and her friends, selfies of Hayden and her girlfriend, Minerva. They were all happy and laughing and exuberant, bright colors and rainbows and playfully skimpy clothes and an inadvisable amount of glitter.

Sara looked up and around again. The guy with the wings was pulling off fake eyelashes, and seemed to be relieved at the lessening of weight on his eyelids. They guy in the crop top took off the extravagant dangling earrings he was wearing. In the group of girls, one had her head on another’s shoulder, evidently sleeping. The brunet boy was sitting by himself still, rubbing harshly at the delicate skin of his cheek. He pulled his hand back, and the rainbow-painted flag on his cheek had just barely smudged. He sighed, half panicky, half sad. The longer he looked at his hand the more it seemed to shake. He appeared to be desperate to dislodge the iridescent spectrum from his tanned skin.

Sara stood, decision made before she even moved, grabbed her bag and went to sit beside him. He looked up, eyes watery and rimmed in red. Sara furled her brow sympathetically, and pulled her makeup bag out of her backpack. She dug through it and handed him a heavy-duty makeup removing wipe. He looked at her, chin partially tucked to his chest, and took it from her fingers, albeit hesitantly. Their fingers brushed. His were cold and shivery, and it seemed wrong, somehow. He seemed like the kind of person who should be warm, jovial and radiant. He was probably a person with expressive hands, graceful and articulate and eloquent and demonstrative. Good hands. Solid hands. Strong, artistic hands.

But now those hands were shaking as he tried to wipe the paint from his face, ineffectively. Sara couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She had been in his position, not exact, but similar, once. But she had had Alex and Hayden and all of her friends to help her, hold her, comfort her. Sara didn’t know if this guy had any of that.

“May I?” Sara asked, holding out a proffered, delicate hand. The boy hesitated seemingly confused and somewhat spooked by the gesture. But he acquiesced nonetheless, handing her the wipe. Sara took it, other hand coming up to hold his chin steady unthinkingly but stopping before she made contact. The boy didn’t flinch but he seemed to repress one, and Sara had and indication of what that might suggest. She had seen it before, in her friend Asher, before he had left his ex-boyfriend and found his new one. She wondered who had hurt this boy, and if anyone was protecting him. She waited for his muted nod of assent before grabbing his chin gently, trying to be as tender as possible when she sponged the flag from his cheek. It didn’t take long with smooth, firm wipes across silky skin.

The boy seemed to choke on a sob, muffled by an iron will and desire not to cry in public. Sara shushed him quietly, instinctively, trying to be comforting. It only seemed to make him more upset, and Sara didn’t know how else to console him. “I’m sorry,” she said, and dropped her hands. The paint was gone, only a red hue left to the skin of his cheek.

The boy touched his cheekbone, possible astonishment, gratefulness. “Thank you,” he whispered. He looked close to tears, elbows resting on his knees, legs not spread enough to advocate confidence, but instead uncertainty and apprehension. His clothes were dirty and wrinkled, evidence of a long day of fun and exhilaration at Pride. Sara wouldn’t have been able to tell if she hadn’t known that he had been there. That was a good thing, she assumed. “I can’t go home like that.”

Sara hummed dejectedly, packing away her things. “I figured,” she said. She set her backpack back by her feet and offered her hand. “I’m Sara.”

The boy took her hand. “Sebastian,” he said. Sara glanced at their connected hands. Sebastian’s were rough, tan, sinewy and muscular and work-worn. There was a stark difference between them, Sara’s soft and pale, freckled and pristine, nails painted but chipped. Her slender fingers hardly reached around his wide palm. Their hands dropped, amicably.

“You probably have to get home tonight,” Sara said, voice inquiring yet deadpan. She could tell Sebastian didn’t want to go home, but, she knew, in those situations, that wasn’t really an option. Sebastian’s silence was confirmation of this enough. “But tomorrow,” she continued. Sebastian was staring at her, a cautious hope in her eyes. “My girlfriend is an unexpectedly brilliant cook. Burgers?”

Sebastian smiled, and Sara’s heart shattered for him. The out, she offered him, from his home, the offer of a home-cooked meal, without antipathy or expectations. “Can I bring my boyfriend?” he asked. Sara smiled back.

“Of course,” she said. Any comfort he needed. “I’ll give you my number.” They exchanged phones. Sebastian’s was old and battered. She didn’t have to ask why. At least he had one. His hands were warm when the phones were traded back, fewer tremors wracking them than when she sat down. The bus began to slow, and Sara recognized the neighborhood. She was almost to Alex’s apartment. She shifted, slinging her backpack across her shoulder. Sebastian looked up at her, seemingly marginally happier now, and Sara smiled at him again. “I’m so glad to have met you,” she said. Holding out her hand once more Sebastian took hers, smiled, and shook. “Stay safe, Sebastian.”

“It was nice meeting you, too.” He pulled his hand back and tucked it into his lap. “Thank you. And…I’ll try.” He sounded sincere, or as sincere as he could be. Sara nodded, winking at him (in good faith, of course), and stepped off the bus. The summer air was warm on her skin, and when she looked back, Sebastian waved at her from the window. Sara waved back, and set off down the sidewalk, trees rustling kindly to guide her.

 

When Sara stopped in front of Alex’s brownstone, the front door was cracked open. The only logical reason was that James had stopped by. He never closed any doors, ever. Sara hopped up the couple of stairs to Alex’s front door, stepping through and closing and bolting the door. Loud, indecipherable noises were coming from the kitchen, which probably meant James was trying to help Alex cook. Beyond all logical reason, Alex could cook and James couldn’t. What a strange world she lived in.

Sara walked through the entryway and living room, then down the hallway to the kitchen. James was sitting on the counter, and for some reason banging a plastic spoon on the counter beside him. Probably just to be annoying and destructive. Alex was standing at the stove, frying what looked to be hamburger. “Hey babe,” Alex said, without turning around. She picked up a piece of cheese and threw it at James, who tried to catch it in his mouth but it ended up on his forehead. Sara laughed. It was a loud, joyous thing, and Alex looked at her, wide smile on her face, and stretched out an arm to Sara. She complied, tucking herself under Alex’s shoulder. Alex kissed the top of her head and held her tightly.

Alex let her go. “Sit down,” she said, though it sounded more like and order, and pushed Sara on the lower back toward the counter. Sara was weak to resist. She nearly collapsed onto the counter, smile not leaving her face. James twisted and clapped her on the shoulder, easy camaraderie in the air. Alex flipped the hamburger skillfully.

“So I made a new friend today,” Sara started, putting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. Alex hummed interestedly, focusing on the food in front of her. James cocked his head, inclining his hearing to her while still watching Alex. Always focused on her. “His name’s Sebastian. I told him to stop by tomorrow with his boyfriend.”

“Oh great,” Alex said sarcastically. “More people to cook for.” James snorted and Sara laughed. She knew Alex didn’t really mind. Her house acted as a kind of haven for all their friends, who stopped by whenever they felt like it. As a result, all of the couches Alex owned were pull-outs. It was the ghost of her father, who did the same for as long as Alex had known.

“Get plates,” Alex said, not indicating to whom she was speaking. They knew anyway, and James hopped off the counter and pulled three from the cabinet. He grabbed glasses and hamburger buns, too. Sara stayed where she was, not entirely certain that she was allowed to move at the moment. James paused at the counter, and Alex directed, “Dining room.” James nodded and didn’t bother walking through the doorways into the dining room, instead sliding over the half wall for a more direct route. Alex shot him a dirty look — she hated when he did that — and Sara snorted.

“Okay,” Alex muttered. She grabbed a hot pad and walked through the doorways to the dining room like a civilized person, calling to Sara, “C’mon, babe. Take off your shoes on the way.” Sara complied, sliding off her shoes and setting them against the wall in the hallway, then following into the dining room. Alex sat at the head of the table, James on her right, and Sara took the seat to her left. A stack of Sara’s canvases were leaning against the wall by the archway. Alex served herself and Sara before passing the spoon to James.

“You need to eat something,” Alex said to Sara when she noticed Sara was pushing the food around on her plate. “The food they give you at uni is terrible for you.” Sara snorted but started eating. She knew how much Alex hated the food her university served. On Mondays, before Sara left for the week, Alex would pack her food for the next two days, so she only had to eat ‘that disgusting uni food’ three days out of the week.

The conversation flowed easily between the three of them, mostly dominated by Alex and James. Sara input where she could, otherwise staying quiet. She was thinking about the boy she had met today. She hoped they could become friends; he seemed like the kind of person she could be friends with. She also hoped that the boyfriend he mentioned was nice, and treated Sebastian well. He seemed to be the kind of person to deserve that.


End file.
